Wiseborn's Journal
by Belmakori
Summary: The journal entry of E. Wiseborn, first son of Gludoff Wiseborn, Priest of Helm, at the end of the War in the Vast, 1373. (This is a story that I wrote for my Forgotten Realms campaign many, many years ago).


Tarsakh 1, 1373

Today the day was as beautiful as it was long. I managed to find some time during the midday meal to take a walk. With the snow crunching beneath my feet, the landscape looked pristine and peaceful. Often, I could see a sprig or sprout poking its way through the snowy ground. The thawing has begun. Soon, we'll be able to celebrate the Greengrass festival. For now, though, the land looks quiet and peaceful. How ironic that beneath all the peace and beauty lies death and destruction.

I have not forgotten the battle fought to reclaim this ground, and I don't fear that any of the Heirs will either. Theirs is a story linked to this land. As the snow covers the scars of war, so to do the Heirs hide their own scars.

Things have progressed remarkable with the rebuilding efforts. An engineer arrived a ten day ago from Cormyr. His name is Almon de Castille. He was sent to help out by the Princess Alustair. She has also sent a letter of welcome to the Twins. She has asked that before The Harvest, that the Twins come and make an official visit. The Twins haven't taken much notice of her offer, and this doesn't surprise me. They are much like their father and his kin, single-minded and determined. I've spoken with Jonathan at some length about it. He said that he would talk to them, but he feels as I do; the castle is more important.

When twilight approached, we broke from our labors and took our evening meal. I had some time to reflect on the situation over the past few months. The insight has me frightened to say the least. I fear that, though the Dark God was destroyed, things haven't improved much for the Kingdom. Calaunt was devastated during the War, and now, its leaders are talking action against us. Thank the gods for Craer's army. Without them, it wouldn't be just talk.

Speaking of Craer, he's been awful agitated as of late. I think something is bothering him. I've seen him snap at his officers for minor offenses. I've even observed the severe beating of one of his guards for pointing out a mistake. There are rumblings that the War has torn his soul asunder, and that he's not the man who once led them. Of this I cannot believe. I've seen him speaking to the Twins and he acts like his old self. I wonder if the War did take its toll upon him. Maybe he has taken things harder then once imagined? I've seen no wavering in his faith, but I wonder if some sort of guilt plagues him?

What I have seen, that disturbs me, is his rage. Though it comes and goes, when he is beset by anger, men around him tend to die. I've heard of some atrocities he has committed against the brigands and thugs who once served in the armies of the Dark God. He shows no mercy, even to the weak and helpless. I pray each night for peace to touch his soul. I fear his rage may bring more harm to others as time passes. I wonder if the thought of his inheritance being despoiled by his kin up in Vaasa is eating at him.

Jonathan has fared much better. But I see the longing in his eyes and his heart. Often, I observe him standing atop Wyrmridge Hill and staring to the south as if watching for someone's return. I have heard of his lost love, Teagen. And I'm aware of his desire to resume the search for her. I fear that he's on a fool's errand. But he cannot be swayed. I think if given half a chance, he would leave us now, instead of waiting till things are in order here in Wyrmridge. I know that his thoughts are on her, and I've often heard him sing a beautiful sonnet, when he thinks he's alone. There is a sadness to him that breaks my heart. Sometimes, we are forced to sacrifice our own needs and wants for the greater good. I only hope that he understands this. But I don't want to be the one to tell him that. He at least seeks out the company of the rest of the Heirs from time to time. Most of them do, even the rage filled Craer. But Enolis has been distant since the final battle.

Enolis is a troubling man. I'm not sure what to make of him. The Blood of Demons courses through his veins, and yet, I see the hint of civility within him. A kindness and compassion oft reserved for members of the elven surface races. Is such a thing possible? Someone who can look so evil and vile, and yet have a heart of gold? I for sure know that it can happen, and Enolis is the living embodiment of that.

But since the War, he too has been troubled. He doesn't voice his troubles, and he rarely speaks to the Twins and Craer. Sometimes, I see him talking with Jonathan. I tend to see the strained friendship that is theirs, but I sense something much deeper is going on. Often, I find Enolis sitting and staring at the plain silver ring that rests upon his finger. He is often lost in thought and does not hear me approach, and doesn't respond to my queries. His meditative state is one of the strongest I have ever witnessed, even from the monks who visited us many years ago from the Monastery of the Yellow Rose. And always, always, he is engrossed with the ring. I'm not sure what importance it holds to him, but rest assured, he allows no one to come near it. His action towards me when I attempted to touch it can attest to that. I'm glad that before he cast his spell, he recognized me for who I am, and not the filthy thief he claimed me to be.

Sirus is faring better since his encounter with the soul beast. From what they told me and the research that I've been able to conduct, I think the beast was a nighthaunt of some sort, a life stealer. Whatever it was, its damage is done. Sirus is but a shell of his former self. And to be honest, there isn't much of him left in that shell. He suffers from paranoia, and a distrustfulness of anyone except Jonathan. It seems he will only allow Jonathan to bring him his food.

Only Jonathan is allowed to sit and talk to him. An oddity, I am sure, but when I've had the chance to listen in on their conversations, they are erratic and filled with babbling and nonsense. But, from time to time, Sirus is sane enough to talk about locals and people he has met. Some of the names I've heard of, but they are folks from ancient texts, some dating back over 1,000 years or more. I've recognized the names, but it is impossible for Sirus to have been there to experience those very same things and events. I feel that his broken mind is using stories told to him in his youth and confusing it with his own life events, a sort of mental protection maybe? I'm not sure, but he's at his calmest when he's talking to Jonathan. I wonder if he'll ever recover. I would hate to have to send him to the Sanitarium in Mulmaster. I fear that his condition will only worsen over time, and we don't have the means, here in Wyrmridge, to properly care for him. It saddens me, but what choice do we have?

Our victory has been won, but at what cost? Those who call the Twins their friend all suffer. Is such the way of Heroes then? And if so, then why would anyone want to aspire to become one? I don't know the answer, and I don't know what drives these men to fulfill their heroic deeds. What I do know, is that the life of an adventurer is filled with daily dangers and high costs. Why would they do it? They are always on the move, never settling in one place for very long. It's almost an epidemic when a Hero passes through, for all the youngsters heads are filled with dreams of fame, wealth and power.

Well, the moon is rising on high, and dawn comes way too early. I must get some rest, for tomorrow is another busy day.

E. Wiseborn


End file.
